


One Last Request

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Baking, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6640366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of the two seniors graduating from the men’s hockey team, Shitty Knight is definitely not the one that Bitty wanted to see almost naked and on his knees, let alone in the kitchen of all places.</p>
<p>Well, to be fair, the kitchen could be a possibility. </p>
<p>Just not with Shitty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Request

Out of the two seniors graduating from the men’s hockey team, Shitty Knight is definitely not the one that Bitty wanted to see almost naked and on his knees, let alone in the kitchen of all places.

Well, to be fair, the kitchen could be a possibility. 

Just not with Shitty.

Shitty is kneeling in front of him with his hands clasped, a sliver of a Ziploc bag peeking out from in between his fingers, and Bitty narrows his eyes in suspicion.

“You look like someone about to ask God to forgive a lifetime of sins.”

“To be honest, Bitty, I don't think there's too much of a difference right now.”

Bitty sighs, and he buries his face in his hands. “I can’t believe you're asking me to do this _again_ , Shitty.” He frowns, folding his arms across his chest. “But I suppose I'll let you ask one last time.”

“That's it! It's _because_ it's my last chance!” Shitty stands up, opening up his hands to list off his reasoning on his fingers, and Bitty makes a face as the bag of weed is exposed. “I'm graduating in a week. I finished the last final of my undergraduate career hours ago. I'm _free_ , Bitty. At least till August.”

“Which is _why_ I have a problem with it, Shitty,” Bitty interjects, “You got into Harvard _freaking_ Law! Shouldn't you, like, stop doing illegal things now?”

Shitty’s hands clamp down on Bitty’s shoulders, and he meets his eyes with a determined look. “Bitty, let me drop some knowledge on you. _I_ know how to get baked. But you, my friend, know how to _bake_.”

He slides an arm around him, pulling him close as he gestures at the oven with a broad sweep of his hand. “Everything that this oven bakes to a golden brown belongs to you. And one day, just like Betsy, this oven’s time on this earth will end. But before that, wouldn’t it be cool if she made a wicked batch of pot brownies, just once? A batch so fucking legendary that even Shitty Knight himself, after consuming them, would swear off any kind of edible in the future, knowing that nothing else would ever compare?”

“Ha, ha. Nice speech there, Mufasa,” Bitty purses his lips, making a half-hearted attempt to shrug away. “Somehow I'm not entirely convinced.”

Shitty is quiet for a moment as he strokes his chin in thought. “Bitty, have you ever thought about life after graduation?”

“I'm in college, Shitty. I actively try to _not_ think about that.”

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he sighs, “But one day, after you graduate, someone is going to bake pot brownies in this oven. And you won't be able to stop them.”

Bitty’s eyebrows draw together. “I...hadn't thought of that.”

Shitty nods solemnly. “Every parent has to reconcile with the fact that they're sending their children out into a cruel world. But your girl doesn't have to be churn out pre-mixed Betty Crocker bullshit just yet.”

There's a stretch of silence between them, with Bitty chewing his lip as Shitty looks at him expectantly.

“Please, Bitty,” he urges, softly, “This is my last chance.” Bitty inhales shakily, then finally sighs, conceding defeat.

“It's...yeah. Okay.” He looks away, holding out his hand. “You _are_ graduating after all, so...okay.” 

Shitty pumps his fist in a quiet victory, then carefully places the bag in Bitty’s hand, folding his fingers around it. “You're a good man, Bitty,” he tells him, patting him on the back, “You won't regret this.”

“If I _ever_ need a lawyer—”

“I'll be there in a heartbeat.” 

Bitty holds the bag far out from his body, sticking his tongue out at the offending clumps of green. “Is this... _prepared_ to your liking?”

“Oh.” Shitty pauses in the middle of the doorway as he thinks. “Y’know, I think you’re actually supposed to cook it down first, or something like that. Google will help you better than I can. I can tell you that you’ve a quarter right there, if that helps?”

Bitty gapes at Shitty, who salutes him in return. “Have fun! But hey, don't just do it for me,” he tells him, pointing a finger at his chest, “Do it for her.”

Bitty casts a mournful look at the oven as Shitty walks away, sighing softly. “I killed Betsy with Bagel Bites, and now you’re going to have a criminal record at barely a week old. If there's anyone who needs to atone for the sins committed in this Haus, it's gotta be me.” 

He wrinkles his nose as he takes another look at the bag, tossing it onto the counter before pulling his phone out of his back pocket. Index finger hovering over the Chrome icon, he brings up an incognito tab—it doesn’t hurt to be safe, right?

“Oh my god, I need to make _butter?_ Out of _weed?_ You’ve definitely earned your nickname this time, Shitty,” groans Bitty to himself as he scrolls through the first link, “...Okay, weed-infused butter, whatever. Something still tells me that Paula Deen wouldn’t be all too proud. Wait a sec—I think I actually stole one of my brownie recipes from her...”

***

“So, I was planning to pummel the asshole that was making pot brownies in your brand-new oven, but you’re the one making pot brownies in your brand-new oven, and now I’m just confused.”

“Me too, Rans,” sighs Bitty from his perch on the countertop, looking up from his American Pluralism notes to glance at the saucepan on the stove, “But, I mean, they’re for Shitty, so…”

Ransom raises his eyebrows. “You’re making pot brownies for Shitty? Geez, Holtzy and I made you do jockstrap runs all the time last year, but if I knew we could’ve strong-armed you into making pot brownies…”

“It’s more of a graduation present, honestly—not like I had already gotten something else for him,” Bitty huffs, though he can’t fight the smile that comes up. “And while I appreciate your efforts, I don’t do repeats, so you and Holster will just have to wait and see what happens next year.”

“Damn. Well, whatever you make, I know I’ll be surprised.”

“I sure hope so! But, if you want me to, I can ask Shitty to share with you. It might help calm you down before your Bio final tomorrow, y’know?”

Ransom dismisses the offer with a wave of his hand, “Aw, Bitty, you’re too kind. Thanks, but I think I’m actually going to be okay with this one.”

“That’s good! I can make you something in celebration, then!”

“Hey, I won’t say no to that.”

***

Bitty raps his knuckles once, twice on the bedroom door before it’s suddenly yanked open, and he jumps back, though still manages to keep a hold on the brownie pan in his hands. Shitty’s stare zeroes in on the pan with a wild intensity, though he quickly softens, cooing at the dessert in front of him.

“BEFORE you eat them,” starts Bitty, giving him a stern look, “I just want you to know that I’m not exactly sure what’s more potent—the weed, or the fat content. So, please promise me you’ll go slowly, okay?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” murmurs Shitty, shaking his head in awe, “I’m gonna need something to get me through seeing my grandparents over the weekend.”

“Shitty Knight, you are _not_ attending your own graduation high on pot brownies!”

“...Yeah, you’re right—I was just kidding around, Bitty,” Shitty grins. “But seriously though, thank you. They look amazing.”

“Peanut butter and caramel marbled together on top, all kinds of chocolaty goodness down below,” Bitty singsongs with a little laugh. “Along with your requested ingredient, of course.”

Shitty is silent for a moment, then blinks, sniffing hard. “Oh Bitty, I could just kiss you right now—”

“I can feel your love just fine from here, Shitty.” He smiles, letting Shitty take the pan out of his hands, but seconds after stepping away from the door, Shitty grabs his arm, pulling him back into a hug.

“Seriously Bitty, it means a lot,” Shitty tells him, squeezing him tight, “Forget brownies—I’m not sure if I’ll even be able to eat pie after leaving the Haus. It just won’t be the same.”

“Oh, Shitty…” Bitty smiles, loosely wrapping his arms around Shitty’s bare chest in return, “That means a lot. Thank you.”

“Anytime, man.” Shitty offers him a closed fist, and Bitty grins, bumping it with his own.

“Am I...interrupting something?”

Bitty spins around, “Oh, Jack! Shitty and I were just, uh, having a little talk. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Sure…” Jack’s brow furrows as Shitty winks, making an okay symbol with his fingers before slowly closing his bedroom door, “Since when is Shitty offering to kiss you ordinary?”

“ _Oh._ Yeah. That’s...kind of unusual, yeah.”

“Yeah,” echoes Jack as they meet in front of the stairs, casting a look down the railing, “So, are there more brownies in the kitchen, or…?”

“Sorry, that was a special batch,” Bitty smiles, apologetic, but soon turns a little smug. “Since when does Jack Zimmermann like to eat brownies of his own volition?”

Jack laughs, scratching at his jaw, “Since a talented baker started living across the hall from him, I guess.” He smiles down at Bitty, blinking when he notices the streak of chocolate on his cheek.

Jack swallows, pointing at his own cheek, “Hey Bittle, you uh…” He trails off, absentmindedly licking his own thumb, and Bitty gasps softly, freezing as Jack drags his thumb over his skin.

“I—um—” Bitty gulps, forcing his eyes away from Jack as he feels his cheeks heat, “I need to go clean the kitchen up.”

“Oh. Uh. Right.” Jack breathes out a little shakily, his hand dropping away. “I can come help?”

“Yeah, sure, if you want to!” Bitty says the sentence a little too quickly, his voice going a little higher than normal as he excuses himself, rocketing down the stairs. Jack stands still for a moment, bringing his thumb to his lips. He carefully licks the chocolate away, then takes a deep breath, and a step, conjuring up the resolve to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote some of this on 4/20, which is a little entertaining, i won't deny ;)
> 
> thank you jeni and rachel for not only giving me life with our headcanon jams, but also encouraging this, and especially rachel for retrieving screencaps when my phone was being stupid. y'all are the best. <3


End file.
